


One Shot: Cozying Up

by brownskinsugarplum76



Category: Led Zeppelin, Rock Music RPF
Genre: British, Childhood Memories, Conversations, Cunnilingus, Dinner, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Erotica, F/M, Fairport Convention, Fireplaces, Friends to Lovers, Large Cock, Led Zeppelin References, Librarians, Libraries, Minnie Ripperton, Missionary Position, Music, New Lovers, Oral Sex, Snow, Snow and Ice, Snowed In, Spooning, Wine, Winter, countryside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 21:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownskinsugarplum76/pseuds/brownskinsugarplum76
Summary: You're an American librarian at a small Welsh library that Robert frequents, and the two of you have become friends. A winter storm threatens your ability to drive home on the country roads. You end up at Robert's, where you reveal to each other that you want to be more than friends. Friends turn to lovers during a snowed-in weekend.





	One Shot: Cozying Up

It’s Friday, close to closing time. You’re sitting at the library counter, reading an erotic novel that you’ve hidden in a dust jacket for A Tale of Two Cities, so no one is the wiser. But so few people came in today that it really didn’t really matter. Things have been slow because a snowstorm is unfolding.

You love the wild nature in this part of Wales, but you’re concerned about getting home safely in your sedan. The last visitor, who left more than a half hour before, said that there was already a centimeter or two of snow on the ground when he came in. Between the snow and the ice, you’re worried that the country roads could get dicey in the dark. 

Robert enters now, waves hello, and smiles. He’s a regular when he’s at his Welsh cottage, and the two of you have talked about books before, as well as the ancient, seaside splendor of the library at the University of Aberystwyth.

He likes to retreat to his woodland hideaway for a couple of months at a time between tours and recording jags, so you’ve gotten to know him well. He’s always appreciative to be at your small community library, because the usual crowd is more excited to see a rare book come in on loan than a middle-aged rock superstar who is almost a regular fixture at certain times of year. When he comes he’s usually there for hours, a single guy who needs some civilization when the wilderness gets to be too much. No one blinks an eye at his arrival anymore. 

Today he’s clutching a backpack on his shoulder with a gloved hand. He’s not wearing a jacket, just a cozy navy sweater, jeans, and brown leather Chelsea boots. The arctic blast has made his cheeks as rosy as they can be on his golden skin. 

You feel the chill of the cold, windy air behind him, and a gust of rogue snowflakes winds its way through the door before he can close it. 

He says he’s surprised you’re still here. You ask him how the weather is now, and he says it’s bad. As proof, a dusting of snow has alighted in his hair on the short walk to the door, although it has already begun to melt in his curls. 

He encourages you to lock up, since it’s so close to closing and no one else is there.

You’ve only got an hour left. You weigh the slim odds of more visitors coming against the strong possibility that you’ll swerve repeatedly on the blind, woodsy roads, and you decide that Robert makes a good point. You make a quick “CLOSED” sign on paper and tape it to the door. You lock it and tell Robert to get the books he wants while you go to the bathroom. 

You grab your purse and coat on the way back to the circulation desk. Robert is already waiting for you with 5 books. You marvel at how he always seems to know which books he wants, how quickly he secures the ones that strike his fancy.

He’s been working his way through the history section lately, and you chat while you check out today’s selections. One book is lucky enough to have a glossy dust jacket, while the others sport their original buckram fabric covers, coated with years of greasy fingerprints, cigarette smoke odors, and coffee mug rings. 

You’re always delighted to have a passionate discussion with him about his book choices. Once again, you tell him that he’d make a fine history teacher if he ever decided to leave the stage. 

As he’s putting the books in his backpack, he glances at the one you were reading. The smirk on his face makes you uncomfortable, so you grab the book and shove it into your oversized purse. 

He comments that he’s never known Dickens to be so hedonistic, raises an eyebrow, and asks if you’re in the market for a submissive servant. You blush, realizing he has discovered that you’ve been reading Venus in Furs during work hours. 

He awkwardly corrects himself, clarifying that he doesn’t want to fill this role for you, though he would like to get to know you better.

Now you’re blushing for a happier reason. You’ve been hoping ever since Robert started visiting that you could connect with him outside of the library, since the two of you have developed a good friendship. At last, it seems you’ll get your chance. 

You excuse yourself to give the library one final sweep, and then you turn off the lights and usher him out so you can lock the back door. 

***

You curse under your breath when you see the parking lot and your car, which is blanketed with snow and ice. Robert picks up on your distress and offers to drive you to his place, in his Land Rover. He says he’ll stop by your place in the morning so you can get a change of clothes and then retrieve your car from the library. Or, since Saturday is your day off, it can wait until Monday if you can’t bear to leave, he says demurely. 

His tentative suggestion pleasantly surprises you, and you smile and nod your head. Having a cozy, long weekend with Robert in a warm house during the winter months is the stuff of your fantasies. 

You think about where things could go between the two of you, and all signs are positive. He always seems glad to see you. He always laughs at your jokes and exchanges glances with you that last a little longer than they would with an acquaintance. He offhandedly invited you to get coffee one time, but you dismissed it with a polite smile, thinking it was just more of his notorious flirting. He never brought it up again, but now it seems he may have been serious. 

On top of what seem to be his romantic intentions, though, you know there’s a genuine concern for your safety. He knows you’re an American transplant, and he’s fully aware that the roads, for all of their ice-covered, tree-lined beauty, can become treacherous before you know it. Between having a behemoth vehicle and a history of driving the roads in all kinds of conditions, he assures you that it’s no problem for you to stay with him. He jokes that he was looking for someone to help him finish off the big pot of stew that his cook left on the stove, and that you’ve now been recruited for that task. 

You agree to the plan, and he helps you climb into the vehicle before getting himself seated. 

***

Robert excuses himself to light the fireplace. You wander aimlessly before heading to the kitchen. The house is cozy and rustic, with lots of wood trim and furniture, and a healthy dose of jewel colors used throughout.

You begin to daydream about what it might be like to live with Robert. You envision greeting him with a cup of hot chocolate when he comes in from a walk on a sunny winter afternoon, and then you imagine an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. You’re enjoying all the fantasies that are building up in your head. 

At the stove, you notice two pots: one big, one small. Both are still warm. You take a peek in the big one, correctly guessing that it’s the stew you’ll be eating with Robert. The savory smell makes your stomach rumble. You realize that you never got around to having a tea break at work, so you find a bowl and a spoon to sample some stew. 

It’s delicious. You ladle a bigger portion into your bowl. The other pot will have to wait for your inspection. 

You’re a little embarrassed when Robert enters the kitchen, but he gives you a hug and assures you it’s OK that you’ve made yourself at home. Inside his arms, you feel just as safe and comforted as you did on the road with him. You quickly gather things to serve two bowls of stew. 

He locates some butter and a loaf of crusty bread. He’s placing them on the dining room table when you arrive with the bowls. Then he retreats to the living room, and when he comes back the sounds of Fairport Convention and Sandy Denny’s expressive, dulcet voice start up behind him. 

He says he’s in the mood for some good, old-fashioned folk music. He tells you about his love for the group, and you ask him how he came to sing with Sandy Denny on The Battle of Evermore so many years ago. He responds, and then he continues with interesting bits of trivia about how some of your other favorite Zeppelin songs were made. You compliment him on Kashmir, and he shyly tells you it’s one of his favorites. You relish the opportunity to glean so many interesting facts from him.

When you’ve both finished eating, he starts clearing the table, and you join him. 

In the kitchen, you realize he set the burner under the mystery pot to low at some point, and now a sweet smell that reminds you of Christmas fills the air. 

Robert asks you to stir the pot while he locates a large thermos.

You turn your attention to the pot. You lift the lid, and you see slices of fruit lazily bobbing along in a red pool, with the occasional bits of spices. Mulled wine. You tell him you’ve never had it before, and he assures you that you’re in for a treat. 

Once he finds the thermos, you admire its cozy, masculine, red plaid pattern and realize that your brother has a similar one. 

He lifts the full pot with ease and fills the thermos while you hold it in place on the counter.

He offers you the first sip, holding the thermos for you while he looks on expectantly. The wine is sweet and flavorful in a way that’s different from regular wine, but just as satisfying. After taking several more sips you realize it’s dangerously good. Between the wine and what Robert seems to want for the evening, what you also want, you’re really glad that you don’t have to work tomorrow or leave his country hideaway. 

***

He hands you the thermos and leads you to his library. There’s a burgundy and gold color scheme in the cozy space, and each wall has a mahogany shelf, filled with books and plants. 

He fixates on some books and a notebook on the leather sofa and returns them to their proper places. While he’s tidying up, you peruse the bookshelves. On the drive over you were thinking that Robert would be a haphazard free-spirit, with barely controlled chaos in every room, but he has surprised you again. The books are arranged in alphabetical order by topic, and a variety of subjects are represented, from histories of many different peoples of the world to drawing techniques, to mythologies of various cultures and even a few biographies about British football greats. 

You tell him he has a nice, well-organized collection and tease him, asking if he might ever be free to cover for you at your library. 

He shakes his head as he approaches you, lightly resting his hands on your shoulders. He responds that he couldn’t be there without you; it wouldn’t be the same.

Your heart flutters at his admission, and you caress his hand with one of your own. He smiles, then breaks the spell with the clearing of his throat and invites you to return to the living room. 

***

He changes to a Minnie Ripperton album on the stereo, still in a mind for 70s nostalgia, and asks you to spread out a velvety scarlet blanket that’s folded next to a brown leather recliner. You place the blanket at a cozy distance from the fire. 

The smooth, soulful, romantic vibes of Perfect Angel fill the air as he joins you on the blanket. You’re sitting side by side. He asks how you became a librarian and, between sips of the warm wine, you get into a long conversation about the interest in books that you’ve had since childhood, your educational background, your favorite books, and your craziest stories of things that have happened in the library. He tells you about his favorite books, in childhood and now. 

He is the star of his own wild library story. With a glint of fond memories in his eye, he recalls an adventure he had in the stacks before Zeppelin, with an older playmate, a Birmingham college girl. He jokes that it’s the only college education he’s had. 

You drink the last of the wine and offer to refill the thermos. Robert refuses, quickly getting to his feet to take care of it. 

While he’s gone you lie down on your side, enjoy the flicker of the fire for a moment, and then look around the room. There is art on the wall, and plants again, but surprisingly no television. 

You comment on the latter when he returns. He says he’s banished television from the house in exchange for peace and quiet, but quickly adds that he reads The Guardian edition that’s delivered every day and never misses his favorite football match-ups by heading off to the nearest pub. You admire his commitment to a true chance to unwind. 

He assures you that he isn’t without radio, though. He turns it on to hear the latest on the snow, but here’s nothing new to report. He shrugs and says with a mischievous, lingering grin that you’ll just have to find ways to entertain each other. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for. 

You’re lying down and facing each other with the thermos between you, taking sips of the wine. You are in an exceptionally easy-going, tipsy state and catch yourself a few times giving Robert a longing, appreciative gaze. You feel like you’re soaring when you realize he is meeting every one of your glances with his own expression of fondness. 

You boldly move the thermos out of the way to spoon with him on the floor. He wraps an arm around your waist as you turn around and back up to him.

You remember that he spent time in Wales as a child and ask him about that experience. With his mouth inches from your ear, he paints a picture of a young Robert who either raced through the woods at top speed with his friends, or was content to stay at home reading or learning the words to the latest songs on the radio. 

He speaks fondly of the wildness of nature in this part of the United Kingdom and recalls all of the mythological beings that he imagined were somewhere nearby when he played in the woods. 

You have been lulled into a beautiful state of contentment by Robert’s words, the music, and the wine. In your relaxed state of pleasure, he bewitches you even more by starting a sensual crawl of his hand through your hair. 

He softly ponders aloud if the two of you would’ve ended up like this, entwined in a mellow embrace, if the snowstorm hadn’t come along. You reply that you’d always hoped so, but you just weren’t sure if he was being friendly with his chatter or really interested in more. 

He raises up on his side and guides you onto your back. He traces your cheek. Then, he leans over for a gossamer kiss on your lips. He offers you a soft smile and says maybe he should’ve tried to kiss you sooner. 

You return his smile and kiss him back just as delicately and tentatively, as though you want more but are afraid the experience will disintegrate, that it’s only an incredibly sweet dream. But when he straddles you and serves butterfly kisses to your lips and neck, you know it’s real by the warm shudder of arousal going through your body. 

The kissing keeps going, deepening to a fiery lip lock with dancing tongues. The warmth of the fireplace and the warmth of Robert’s deliciously invasive kisses are heavenly. There is no awkwardness between you two, just connected, instinctual romance, just as easygoing as your banter in the library. 

You lightly grasp his shoulders, and he lowers himself closer to you. His hands cradle your face as he savors the taste of your swirling tongue a little more. 

Minnie Ripperton starts cooing suggestively about two people meeting, two spirits greeting, inside each other. It seems the universe has given the two of you a sign. You continue to become more physically acquainted with each other, one wet kiss, one curious finger, one lick of an eager tongue at a time.

You have fallen in love with the faint sandalwood scent of him in the warm months, but with his sweater discarded tonight, and quickly followed by his pants, he smells strongly of a woodsy cologne all over. It’s an appropriate smell for this cold time of year, and you’re sure it’s one you’ll never forget, as well as the memory of his finely chiseled, athletic, naked body. 

You also know, without any lovemaking having taken place yet, that he will have ruined you for other men by the time you leave on Monday. It’s plain as day from many of the old Led Zeppelin pictures that Robert is astonishingly well hung, but actually seeing his steadily hardening member, which has been so integral to your fantasies, letting the truth sink in as you continue to explore each other and he tenderly removes your clothes, is everything you’ve imagined. But it’s also almost beyond belief. 

Seeing his hardness in real life, by the glow of the fire. Tracing the prominent veins on the warm, smooth skin. Feeling the tantalizing heft of him in your hand. Tasting the slight saltiness and the pearl of early excitement that has seeped from his tip. You couldn’t have imagined it better. But now, it’s beyond the control of your daydreams, and Robert’s wild card movements and reactions are pleasantly surprising and far more alluring than any bedtime story you’ve told yourself about him. As you work his cock in your mouth, his hands lightly roam in your hair, over your shoulders and your back, and it takes all of your focus to keep yourself from surrendering to his touch. 

As if sensing your need, he stops you well before his completion and attends to you. He journeys south on your body, sometimes gracing your warm skin with the faintest touch of his lips and fingertips, sometimes trailing with the tip of his tongue, dwelling at the many places along the way that make you mewl and squirm. He is treating you with reverence and lightness, like you’re a beautiful, iridescent-winged hummingbird who has graced his presence but could fly away with one false touch. 

You needn’t worry that the evening will be chaste, however; his caresses, licks and, now, nips of your skin grow bolder by the second. He is using all of his senses to gather all the information he needs to seduce you in the way that most resonates with you, and you alone. 

By your satisfied hums and the non-stop slither of your body, it’s clear that Robert has mastered a repertoire of your turn-ons and seized control of your passion. 

Under his velvet-tongued rule between your legs, he ratchets up your delight before backing off, doing this a few times just before the point of no control for you. He ignores your moans, and they evolve to cries and screams with each passing flick of his tongue in your soaked folds. He presses on with teasing that would’ve overextended its welcome long ago if it hadn’t also been the most sensually intoxicated you’ve felt in your life. 

You clutch the sheets as the electric wildfire that he has unleashed from your tight bud has spread out of control. Your legs spasm, your back stiffens. Your breath can’t fill your lungs fast enough. 

He knows you’re close to physical nirvana. He coaxes you further in a hushed whisper, letting you know how beautiful you look while lost to desire. He coos some more, tells you not to fight it, to come for him, to give him the look that he’s dreamt about exploding on your face. 

The sexy rasp of his suggestion, and a confession of him fantasizing about you are all your body needed; it can no longer contain the build-up of your pleasure. Your energy shatters, and the wild essence of you dissipates into oblivion for a time. 

The needle has been wandering aimlessly in the inner groove of the Minnie Ripperton record for some time now, and you get to gather yourself for the next round when Robert goes to turn off the stereo. 

When he returns, he tests the waters of your core with curious fingers. By the slick wetness and your hungry groan at his touch inside, he knows that it’s time. He nudges the tip of his cock inside of you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, but the slow wind of his hips is reassuring as he ventures deeper into you.

Robert doesn’t stop kissing you, and before you know it he’s fully nestled inside of your core. He’s still wielding his cock gently, but he is, nevertheless, mercilessly stretching your walls by his mere presence. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever experienced. The satisfaction is unspeakable. 

Your life hangs in the balance between every stroke. Your breath hitches and you’re reduced to desperate gulps of air. The gyrations that comprise your shared passion are tortuously slow, but you still find yourself clutching his back and crying out for mercy, as though he was fucking you savagely. The contradiction is blissfully satisfying. 

The tickling meander of his hands in your hair and the brush of his lips against yours provides some relief, but you’re still spiraling out of control. He smirks with the cocky grin that you’ve seen many times before at the library when he wins a discussion between you two. He knows his time-tested prowess and his exquisite physical gifts have transformed you to a wanton, insatiable goddess, which is exactly who he hoped to find within the woman with the friendly smile at the circulation desk. 

His smirk is short-lived as you rake your nails across his broad back and arch more steeply into him. He growls softly, cursing and enjoying the tightness, and his breathing hastens. Now it’s your turn to gloat. It seems you are affecting him as much as he is affecting you. 

You share a lust-soaked gaze, and you marvel at how the sounds of your breathing have synchronized. The joyous coupling has brought both of you closer than you’d ever dreamed you’d be to each other. The slow burn of your friendship has found in your hearts all the kindling it needed to make your relationship flame brighter and higher. And there seems to be no limit to the ascension of your passion and your fondness for each other. 

Both of you are desperately greedy for the escalating sensations, but neither of you is pressed to go faster or harder. You chalk it up to the blessing of a snowed-in weekend; you both know that much of the rest of your time will be spent exploring different tempos, intensities, and positions of togetherness. 

Your body meanders its way toward completion. Both of you glow from the fire, and from a sheen of sweat generated by your combined passion. Both of you grasp the other tightly, not quite ready to be swept in different directions by the full surge of climax. But the unpredictable energy has its way, as both of you loudly sing the joys of orgasm at the same time. Robert’s pleasure is punctuated with the destructive force of a shotgun blast, while your full-body spasms seem to have no end. You voyage on the dying embers of passion as far as they will take you. 

***

Your eyes snap open some time later. The fire has all but died out. Robert’s head is nestled between your breasts, and he is emitting soft snores into your damp skin. One of his hands protectively grasps your waist. 

You’re starting to feel a chill where your skin is not in contact with his. You fondle his damp, unfurled curls to gently wake him. He purrs and slowly focuses his sleepy eyes on yours, as a crooked smile also dawns on his face. 

He parts your lips with his tongue, kissing you with lazy, loving energy. He now realizes that the fire is on the wane, and he rises to put it out completely. 

He helps you to your feet and says you should head to the bedroom to warm up and get more comfortable. You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, and he takes the opportunity to scoop you up into his arms. 

Once he has placed you on the bed, you find yourself reeling from the wine and the passionate encounter. Robert holds you and guides you to lay your head on his chest when he climbs into bed with you. You caress his face and tell him how glad you are that everything tonight has happened. He agrees and kisses your forehead. 

He smiles broadly, and you know he’s about to say something silly. And he doesn’t disappoint: he promises that, now that he’s sleeping with the librarian, he’ll never abuse his power to take out extra books or keep them longer than he should. You can’t help but laugh, and you tell him you’re going to hold him to that promise. 

Moments later, Robert has returned to being your peacefully snoring prince again, by the sound of his breath. You snuggle closer to him and close your eyes. You’re excited to experience everything else that the weekend has to offer, and you know you’ll both need the rest to keep up with each other.


End file.
